


Swallow the Blues

by Brumeier



Series: Bite Sized Fic [75]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, Family Drama, Father-Son Relationship, M/M, Musicians, Prompt Fill, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 09:11:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7095952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LJ Comment Fic for Lyrics prompt: <i>Stargate Atlantis, Rodney McKay +/ John Sheppard, I sing the blues and swallow them too.</i></p><p>In which Patrick Sheppard stops by to see John sing, and there is much unresolved family angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swallow the Blues

Rodney was becoming a regular at Red’s on open mic nights, to the point where people would nod at him or say hello, even though they were complete strangers. He still wasn’t a huge fan of Country music, but there were some exceptional amateur performers who took to the stage on Friday nights.

Red’s put up a list on their website every week of the most popular performers that would be singing on that particular Friday, and for the first time John’s name had been on it. In a very short time he’d garnered quite a fan following. If that kept up, he told Rodney that the bar would start booking him other nights of the week, for actual paying gigs.

John still wasn’t much of a singer, but Rodney could see how much his playing had improved since that first open mic night. And he couldn’t help the surge of pride he felt when John took the stage and people began applauding before he even started to play.

“Thanks,” he said into the microphone, managing to look and sound bashful. “I’d like to play something tonight for a person who means a lot to me. Meredith, this is for you.”

Rodney blushed, and mentally cursed his sister; she was the only one who’d have told John his real name.

_It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart_  
_Without saying a word you can light up the dark_  
_Try as I may I could never explain_  
_What I hear when you don't say a thing_

Rodney’s heart was pounding in his chest. John was singing him a love song. In public. The ambiance was a little off, what with the sawdust on the floor and the steer skulls on the walls, but still…no-one had ever done that for him before.

_The smile on your face lets me know that you need me_  
_There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me_  
_A touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall_  
_Now you say it best, when you say nothing at all_

“He’s good.”

Rodney turned to look at the man who was standing next to his table. He was older, maybe in his sixties. Distinguished looking, despite the chambray shirt and well-worn jeans. He didn’t seem the cowboy type, but then neither did Rodney.

“Yes, he is.”

“He’s singing about you, isn’t he?” The guy glanced at Rodney before turning his attention back to the stage. 

Rodney wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He and John weren’t exactly hiding their relationship, but they didn’t flaunt it out in public either. Rodney had the sense that John was still in a DADT mindset, and if it made him more comfortable then Rodney didn’t mind holding himself back.

“I can tell. I used to look at his mother the same way you’re looking at him. She closed her eyes when she sang, too.”

“You knew John’s mother?” Not unexpected. Grace King had made quite a name for herself in musical circles back in the 60s and 70s. Although it was unusual for someone to connect John to his mother, because his father had…oh. 

“She broke my heart, more times than I could count.” The man – he had to be Patrick Sheppard, John’s father – sounded incredibly sad. “So did he.”

Rodney wasn’t a stupid person. He was, in fact, a genius. And he’d been able to piece together a pretty good approximation of what Grace King’s personal life had been like just from the bits and pieces he’d picked up from John, and from that art teacher, and what he’d read online. Grace had been married to her music, to life on the road. She’d visited her family, and taken John with her that one summer, but her physical presence had been pretty minimal. It was good fodder for a Country song, actually. 

On stage John finished singing, and Patrick turned away. To hide his face, so his son wouldn’t know he was there? The crowd called for one more song, and John caught Rodney’s eye. The big grin on his face bled away, replaced by an expression Rodney had never seen before.

“Okay. You all should know this next song, so go ahead and sing along.”

Almost as soon as John started to play, the crowd went wild, whooping and hollering. When he started to sing, Rodney rolled his eyes. That was the worst kind of popular tripe, but the crowd immediately and enthusiastically joined in.

_Blame it all on my roots_  
_I showed up in boots_  
_And ruined your black tie affair_  
_The last one to know_  
_The last one to show_  
_I was the last one_  
_You thought you'd see there_

“Some things never change,” Patrick said with a sigh. Rodney almost didn’t hear him over the singing. 

_'Cause I've got friends in low places_  
_Where the whiskey drowns_  
_And the beer chases my blues away_  
_And I'll be okay_

“Why are you here?” Rodney asked, confused and a little defensive on John’s behalf. 

Patrick rubbed at the back of his neck, and it was such a John thing to do that suddenly Rodney could see the resemblance between father and son. There wasn’t much of it; John very much took after Grace in the looks department.

_Hey, I didn't mean_  
_To cause a big scene_  
_Just give me an hour and then_  
_Well, I'll be as high_  
_As that ivory tower_  
_That you're livin' in_

“I wanted to see my son. I heard he was performing again.”

Rodney had no doubt that a man as rich and powerful as Patrick Sheppard had numerous ways to keep track of his son’s whereabouts. It was creepy and stalker-y, sure, but maybe for the Sheppards it was the only way they communicated.

“He’s only just started playing again,” Rodney said. “He’s got a lot of talent.”

Patrick nodded. “Just like his mother. He’s never been much of a singer, though.”

The group sing-a-long ended with much raucous shouting and thunderous applause, and John hopped off the stage with his guitar in his hands, making a beeline for Rodney’s table. In an unprecedented public display of affection, he pressed a kiss to Rodney’s head before he addressed his father.

“Dad. You’re a long way from home.”

“I wanted to see how you were settling in.”

“Doing just fine.” There was a challenge in John’s voice, a hard edge that Rodney had never heard before. 

“John, I –” Whatever Patrick might have been about to say, he swallowed it. And just like that his whole demeanor changed, going all stiff and formal and emotionless. “Call if you need anything.”

“I’m good.”

“So I see.” Patrick nodded at Rodney. “It was nice meeting you.”

Rodney watched John, whose eyes tracked his father’s path through the bar and out the door. Familial relationships could be fraught with drama. Rodney knew that better than anyone, knew what it was like to try and maintain lowered expectations yet still wind up disappointed. John was pretty masterful at not letting any of that show. 

“So. Garth Brooks? Really?”

John huffed out a breath that was almost a laugh. “The old man hates it. I was home from Stanford, on a holiday break or something, and he insisted I play piano for all his fancy business acquaintances.”

“And that’s the song you played.” Rodney shook his head. “Subtle. Also, I didn’t know you played piano. Why didn’t you say something?”

John shrugged. “I’m not very good. Guitar has always been my instrument, but he banned it from being played at home. Piano was more acceptable among the country club set.”

Rodney could hear the bitterness, could practically smell it oozing out of John’s pores. Time to change the subject.

“Do you want to hang around here? Because I know this great place we can go and get naked.”

John raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I need to thank you. You know. For the song.”

That earned Rodney his second PDA of the night, and this time the kiss was on his mouth. John seemed to shake off the pall that had fallen due to his father’s presence, and went to grab his guitar case from backstage. 

Rodney wasn’t fooled. John was one of those guys who buried his feelings, swallowed down his blues. It was unhealthy. Rodney himself was quite good at deflecting, but he was always very open about his feelings. Maybe he could lead by example, and help John do the same.

“You ready?” John asked when he came back, guitar case in hand.

Rodney didn’t say anything, just gave John his best leer and very obviously adjusted himself through his pants. It was pretty gratifying, the way a blush rose on John’s cheekbones, and his eyes darkened with lust. Rodney turned and walked away, clenching his ass muscles as he did so. John crowded in behind him, his breath hot on Rodney’s ear.

“I’ll have you begging in fifteen minutes,” he murmured.

He did it in ten.

**Author's Note:**

> **Songlist**
> 
> [When You Say Nothing At All, Keith Whitley](https://youtu.be/1GpXYKp7_Qw)
> 
> [Friends in Low Places, Garth Brooks](https://youtu.be/p0_der_5hRM)


End file.
